


Divergence

by Redfox (sixbeforelunch)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-08
Updated: 2003-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:51:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/pseuds/Redfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Two choices. One will destroy you, the other will save you from everything but a broken heart."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divergence

It's one in the morning and he's awake again. You woke up when he did. Felt the bed shift and heard the soft sound of his feet as he walked to the bathroom Heard the sound of water running. Heard the TV go on in the living room -- loud at first, then quickly turned down until you couldn't hear in anymore. You know he's out there now, shuffling through papers, obsessive as always. A little kid with a favored toy. Except this toy could hurt him, maybe even kill him.

You didn't know that at first. You were so happy when he found those files -- so happy because they made him so happy -- you supported him all the way. After years of being the FBI's wonder-child, brilliant and exalted and miserable, here was finally something that he was passionate about. Not the dangerous, all consuming obsession that he brought to his profiling cases, but a kinder passion. One that didn't keep him up nights, didn't make him wake up screaming your name or the name of the latest victim.

That was at first.

Then he started staying up nights again, and having nightmares. This time it isn't your name he was screaming, it was his sister's. Over and over and over until you shook him hard enough to wake him. Sometimes he would collapse into your arms and cry himself back to sleep. Other times he would reach for you and make love to you and get himself back to sleep that way. Either way when his breathing evened out and his muscles relaxed, you were left wide awake, feeling you stomach twist itself into all sorts of interesting knots.

You started to wish things would go back to the way they were before. Then you'd see the look of pure childlike wonder in your husband's eyes when he talked about his new project. Still, you wished you didn't have to watch as he went from exalted to ridiculed and took you with him. He might not care, but you had something invested in your career. It didn't matter in the end, he took the basement office and you followed. Followed him as he tore into those cases with the single mindedness and passion that excited you at first and later frightened you. Listened to stories about werewolves and vampires and aliens. Oh, he fell in love with those aliens. And you fell in love with him all over again.

After his "experience" in Maryland those damned files took on new meaning to him. They became personal and you're not sure why. It goes back to his sister, you know that much. He told you all about her. How she disappeared and was never found. You know it goes further than that. Her kidnapping was the end of his childhood. His whole world fell apart. He's never fully recovered, but he was coping. Emphasis on the was. Now he thinks he can find her. He thinks he's found something, something locked deep inside his mind, something that can save her. He's talking about hypnotic regression sessions and alien abductions and government conspiracies. You grow more frightened every day -- and not because you thing he's wrong.

You want to. You want to dismiss all this nonsense and drag him to a shrink and make him forget all about the aliens and the X-Files. You want to dismiss this as a figment of his overactive imagination. You can't. Not since you were called for a meeting in an office that reeked of cigarette smoke and informed of certain...concerns that some in the administration were beginning to have. The X-Files held some sensitive information. Most of it was inconsequential, but there were certain things that shouldn't be investigated. For the good of the country, of course. They spoke to you in thinly veiled threats. He couldn't be reasoned with, but you seemed sensible. It was simple, they said. Keep Mulder grounded, they said. Let him play all he wanted, but also make sure he left certain things alone. You weren't happy being viewed as his nanny, even less so with being led around on a leash by people who manipulated things from behind the scenes, but they made it clear that your cooperation was to your benefit. And his. A man could get hurt, maybe even killed, sticking his nose where he wasn't supposed to. So you played along and kept the both of you alive.

Slowly, you started to learn things, things that you never wanted to know. Secrets that altered your perception of the world. You learned things that made you afraid. You learned things about Fox and where he came from that you couldn't tell him because he simply wasn't ready to know. All this knowledge you never wanted has come at a price. The more you learned the more they drug you into their world and the more they drug you into their world the more you learned. You know too much to ever be innocent again. You're in too far to ever get out. You're desperately afraid and have no one to share your fears with. You're more alone than you've ever been before. They control you now. They've taken one half of your soul.

Fox, he holds the other half. You gave it to him freely. Once he held all of it and he hasn't even seen it slipping away. You love him. Love him desperately and beyond reason and it's eating you inside. You can't tell him what you know and you wouldn't be able to make him understand even if you could. Fox lives in a world of blacks and whites and you're learning that there is nothing but ever-shifting shades of gray. Eventually he'll realize that you see the world so differently than he does and that you've been keeping so many things from him. On that day, he will hate you. You cannot bear to see that happen.

Recently you began to understand the breadth and scope of what's happening. You're more terrified than ever before and more certain that staying with Fox will only kill both of you in the end. The most obvious solution presents itself to you and taunts you with its cruelty. With your connections, you could disappear. Go overseas, away from Fox Mulder. The only other choice is to stay and quietly await your destruction. Two choices. One will destroy you, the other will save you from everything but a broken heart. You know which is the correct choice, but that doesn't make it any less painful.

Sighing, you toss back the covers and walk toward the living room. You don't bother to put on a robe, even though all you're wearing is an old, ratty T-shirt you bought in Florida. In doesn't matter, he's seen you in just about everything. That reminder of that intimacy sends a sharp pain through your chest, but you ignore it. You've gotten very good at ignoring things.

Fox is watching an evangelical show on TV. It's a strange viewing choice for a vocal agnostic with a grudge against whatever God might exist, but Fox always wanted to believe that there was good in the universe and he's not finding much of it in humans these days. He turns to you and smiles. He knew you would join him eventually, you always do. There's that pain again, lancing through you with enough intensity to make you want to double over. Instead you smile back and he scoots over and offers you half the blanket. You slide in next to him and marvel at how well you fit together. How easy it is to forget the huge gulf that's slowly growing between you.

He idly fingers the soft cloth of your shirt. "You got this at that gift shop in West Palm. On our honeymoon. " He speaks softly, not disturbing the calm in the room. In the background the preacher's voice drones but neither one of you is paying attention.

Your reply is a soft "Hmm," but it seems to satisfy him. He pulls you closer to him. You rest your head on his chest. He slips his hand under your shirt and starts rubbing small circles on you back, but realizes that you don't want to take it farther than that. Not yet.

Later, you'll take him back into the bedroom and make love to him for possibly the last time. Tomorrow you'll start looking for a way to leave him behind. You may never see him again once you do. But for now, in this moment, you're just *here*, with him, and it's enough. It has to be.


End file.
